What We Cherish Above All
by MassiveMilkshakeNerd
Summary: Sebastian takes his master on a trip to London to cure the boy's feeling of listlessness. Now he knows that the next time they go anywhere together to keep a strict eye on him.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler). All rights belong to the author, Yana Toboso. I am merely using her characters and story for entertainment.**

* * *

"Young Master, _please_ sit down."

The boy huffed impatiently as the butler gave a gentle tug on his trousers but sat down, throwing him dirty looks all the while. They were sitting together in the driver's seat of a carriage heading for London. After he had complained numerous times of his supposed boredom, the butler had asked him if he would like to go on a trip with him. The boy complied, only because he didn't want to stay inside the stuffy mansion any longer, and the servants they had recently hired were giving him a headache.

"I do not understand why you wish to sit up front, sir," began the butler. "The inside of the carriage is far more comfortable, and look," he held out a gloved hand, "it is starting to snow."

He crossed his arms and pouted. "It's boring in there."

The butler rolled his eyes and gave a quick flick of the reins, urging the Clydesdales to go faster. "It may be even more boring up here, my Lord."

The boy did nothing to refute that statement.

As they continued on the narrow country lane, the boy looked around, trying to find something to alleviate his boredom. Snow covered pine trees surrounded them, blocking anything interesting from view; the bumpy road filled with ruts offered little attraction; farther ahead he could see nothing but falling snow. He turned to the big horses pulling the carriage, their bluish-gray coat standing out against the frosty white of the snow. He wondered if one day he would be able to ride one. All he ever rode were the ponies kept in the stables; the larger horses he could only ride with his butler's supervision. He absentmindedly swung his legs up and down as he daydreamed.

"Sir, do stop swinging your feet."

He stopped. "Why must you always be such a wet blanket?"

The butler arched his brow slightly, still facing the road.

"It means you see the worst in any kind of situation and that's exactly what you were doing. How is swinging my legs going to hurt anything?"

"It is unbecoming of an English gentleman such as yourself," he replied smoothly. "And let us not forget you were standing up in your seat. You may have fallen off and killed yourself."

"You could have caught me," he said testily.

"Yes," he agreed. "But let's not give me any more trouble than I already must deal with."

"Hmph." He examined his butler and immediately mirrored his rigid posture. "Very well."

The butler chuckled at his master's stiff form. His back was shaking as he strained to copy his own position.

"Are we nearly there, Sebastian?"

"Yes, we are just reaching the city as we speak."

And now he could see it. The bustling city of London was up ahead. "What are we going to do there?"

He frowned slightly. "That, I don't know."

"You don't know?" He stared incredulously at him. How could he take him all the way here without knowing?

"I assumed you would choose where we are to go, sir."

"But I don't know London very well..." He bit his lower lip and looked around at all the people shuffling about, buying things at local shops and stands, greeting others and waving at passersby. He hoped no one would notice him. Only a few months ago had he been in all the newspapers, stating his miraculous return. He had had enough publicity to last him a lifetime, with all the reporters and journalists that showed up at the gates of the manor, wanting to write stories about him and to ask questions concerning him. Sebastian shooed them off whenever they came but still they would come back.

Not to mention the crowds of people that would hover around him whenever he went to the city (which he did not do very often, but the few times he did were memorable enough). He hated how they expressed their pity for him, how they'd pinch his cheeks and cry, saying how sad it was that a child should have to lose his parents at such an age. Then Sebastian would have to come and save him from the onslaught of people and he liked this least of all.

 _Such a helpless master. What on earth will I do with you?_

He scowled. He found himself to have taken his bitterness out on his butler, whom, he thought, was a reasonable target. As soon as they stopped, he stood and went to climb out of the carriage. To his dismay, he could not reach the footing and Sebastian walked around to help him out. No matter. He would just have to find something else he could do by himself.

"Where to, my Lord?"

He scanned the area around them and saw nothing that interested him.

"Anywhere, sir?"

The boy, feeling mischievous, decided to walk around the city and took off without warning his butler. He smirked to himself as he heard the butler running up behind him, swearing angrily under his breath. He snuck into an alley where he collided with a bundle of rags.

"Oh, my dear, I'm sorry," she apologized as she helped him up from the grimy pavement. "Are you hurt?"

"N-no..." He swayed where he stood and shook his head so he could focus.

She smiled kindly at him. "What are you doing out here? You're finely dressed. Do you have any family?"

He looked at the woman cloaked in rags. If he hadn't heard her voice he wouldn't have known she was a woman. "Well, um..." He stole a glance behind him and bit his lip. Sebastian still hadn't found him. What was he to do? "No, I haven't. They're dead."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that." She cocked her old head and looked at him mournfully. "Would you like to come over to my house? It gets very lonely living by yourself, you know. And I have some sweets prepared as well."

Who did this woman think she was inviting him to her home like that? He had only just met her, or rather, bumped into her. But, of course, these things didn't occur to the boy at the time and at the word "sweets," he perked up. "What kind?"

She laughed. "Chocolate chip cookies."

He heard his stomach rumble. If the woman was giving away free food, surely there could be nothing bad about her? Sebastian would find him eventually. Sure he would scold him for eating sweets before dinner, reprimand him for entering a stranger's home, but they all seemed small prices to pay next to the reward he'd get.

* * *

"You must have been very hungry," observed the woman as she watched the boy shovel cookies into his mouth.

He nodded. The cookies were delicious. Perhaps not as good as Sebastian's, but delicious all the same.

"I hope you don't think I'm kidnapping you or anything," said she seriously as he continued to stuff himself.

He froze, another cookie only halfway to his mouth. He hadn't thought about that. What if she had slipped something in the cookie batter? What if she was planning to sell him to the gypsies? Was this all an elaborate scheme to lure unsuspecting children into her grasp? What if-

"I've not poisoned it if that's what you were thinking."

He hung his head and sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" she inquired gently.

Feeling extremely foolish, he began by saying, "I've used you... to hide from someone."

The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. "From whom are you hiding?"

On top of the foolishness he felt for having deceived the old woman, he now felt guilt for running away from Sebastian and leaving him to find him. "My butler."

"Why did you?" she asked kindly enough.

"Because I was mad at him," he confessed. "Because..." Why did he feel the need to confide in her? "Because he treats me like a child." He cringed, expecting her to point out that he was, indeed, a child.

The woman smiled knowingly. "I see... Do you think he only treats you so because he cares for you?"

For a moment he thought the elder was wise in his predicament but now he saw that she was really a fool. His butler, care about him? If only she knew...

"He's now wandering about the streets of London, searching for you. How do you feel about that?"

His face warmed.

"There's no need to be bitter toward him. You should go and find him."

He looked toward the door. No doubt the demon had picked up on his scent already. He shivered.

"I-I think I will."

She beamed. "Oh, I'm glad!" she cried while searching around in the pockets of her rag dress for something. "Take these with you. I have no need for them." She handed him a baggie full of cookies. "I had a feeling I might be acquainted with a child today; I was right. I am most of the time, you know."

He actually didn't know but thanked her anyway.

She waved him off. "Now begone with you."

He waved back and then he left.

One thing nagged at him the entire time: he hadn't asked her name.

* * *

When he left the old woman's home, he felt small and scared. His butler would find him at any moment and who knew what kind of punishments he'd lay out for him. But whatever they were, he told himself, they would be well deserved. He wouldn't be scared either; he would be brave, for he was the Earl of Phantomhive, and he had faced much worse.

Well, that's what he liked to think anyway.

He stepped out of the alleyway and searched feverishly for a sign of his butler, but he found none. Where was he? Did he leave without him? Something akin to panic tore at him. He had hoped he'd be waiting for him. Perhaps at the doorstep of the elder's house, ready to scold and punish him. This, however, was not the case for he was nowhere to be seen.

He ran out into the streets and looked around for the carriage. He couldn't remember where it had been parked. Hopelessness flooded through him as his search remained fruitless. It was still snowing and he was starting to get cold. The cookies he had just eaten (while delicious) had not settled well. He resisted the urge to call Sebastian's name. He'd willingly die than call on him for such a reason.

But he _was_ cold.

He sat down on the sidewalk and huddled inside his coat as much as he possibly could. He couldn't give in now, he'd freeze to death!

Oh, but where was Sebastian? Couldn't he tell he was in trouble? Didn't he know?

He told himself not to cry. He would not cry. Not here, not now.

Strong arms enveloped him and he instantly felt warm. "Oh, young Master..." He shut his eyes tight. "What on _earth_ possessed you to run away from me like that?"

He opened them again and looked up at the butler who carried him back to the carriage. His usually impassive face showed signs of relief. "I-I..."

The butler strode up to the carriage and climbed back into the seat, setting the boy down next to him. He remained silent and stern the whole time and, admiringly, controlled. He flicked the reins and the horses set off again, this time in the opposite direction: back to the manor.

The boy sank as far back in his seat as he could. He wished Sebastian would have let him sit inside the carriage, but obviously, he wanted to talk with him. Judging from the look on his face, he was brimming with questions reserved especially for him, which he would have to answer truthfully or else.

"Sir," he began and blew out a breath. "Why did you run from me?"

Why did he run? How was he supposed to know? He decided to say the thing he would most likely want to hear, "I acted on impulse. If I had been thinking, I wouldn't have run."

"And on what impulse did you run?"

He fiddled with his fingers. He would have to tell him the truth; there was no other way out of it. "I was bitter with you."

The butler looked over at him. "Why? Had I done something wrong?"

"No... Not exactly." He wished he could sink further into the carriage seat.

"Then why?" He wore an expression that suggested he was trying to comprehend his master's ways. "Sir, please sit up," he added.

He wanted to say, "You see! That's exactly why I ran away from you!" But thinking it was a childish response (even though it _was_ partly the reason why), he dropped it and instead said nothing.

The butler heaved a great sigh. "If you would just tell me what is the matter-"

"You treat me like a child!"

The butler and he jumped. Neither had expected it to roar out of him like it did.

"What do you mean?" he inquired carefully.

He wasn't sure how to voice his convictions. "I'm the Earl of Phantomhive... I have a goal and, you yours, and... I just think we should have a sort of... respect for each other... You know, you do your thing... I do mine." He gulped.

The butler still looked confused, although a hint of an amused smile was certainly there. "So you're saying you would like me to leave you to do your business and I mine?"

The boy breathed. " _Yes_ , that is what I meant."

"I see..." He appeared to be deep in thought. "Very well. It is fine by me."

He instantly felt relieved.

"Sir," a smile transformed his stern face (he should have known he would find out something), "do I smell cookies?"

He flushed. Reaching into his coat pocket, he found the bag of cookies the old woman had given him. Oh, why had he taken them?

"Did some of the ladies give you sweets? Or did you perhaps steal them off a cart?" he teased.

"N-no!" he replied indignantly. "And I didn't steal them either!"

"Mmm."

Their banter eased his tight stomach and he relaxed. He realized how tired and cold he was and desperately wished he was inside of the carriage, not the outside. He said so aloud.

"We can't have that." The butler put an arm around him, the other still holding the reins, and let the boy's head rest on his shoulder.

"What are you-"

The butler smirked. "Just to keep you warm, sir."

He huffed, letting him know he wanted nothing of this.

One would think he'd be the coldest thing of all, but really, he was quite warm. Overall, he found that he didn't particularly mind and snuggled in closer to his butler. Eventually, tiredness overtook him and he soon fell asleep, dreaming of the ragged old woman and her cookies.


End file.
